


Stay Bright, Fireflies

by Evoxine



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Photographer, Angst and Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 08:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16761688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Evoxine
Summary: This is a love letter. This is a love story. This is love.





	Stay Bright, Fireflies

**Author's Note:**

> Because love isn't always a happy thing.
> 
> Originally written and posted on LJ in **2014**. Apart from a quick read through to fix typos and stuff, **I did not edit much of the fic.**

It is the month of February, of the year 2012, and Jongin is up on the stage in his school’s auditorium with his high school certificate in his hands. The large room is filled with blinding yellow lights, but Jongin fights through the glare to latch his eyes onto his best friend. Sehun smiles back at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling ever-so-slightly; it's a detail so small that anyone else wouldn’t even dream of being able to notice it. But Jongin’s been Sehun's best friend for three years now, and he’s so attuned to Sehun’s every move, what with them spending every waking second with one another unless they’re absolutely unable to.

Jongin, as he patiently waits for the rest of his graduating class to join him on stage, continues surveying his best friend’s face. Sehun’s not exactly an impatient person, but Jongin can tell that he’d like the ceremony to end soon – Jongin makes an educated guess that Sehun just really wants food. Holding down his laughter, Jongin turns to his classmate and nods along to what she’s saying. He’s not giving her his full attention though; Sehun will always have a part of it no matter where they are or whoever else they’re with at that time.

Jongin knows what it means. He knows what it means when his heart speeds up a little whenever Sehun smiles at him. He knows what it means when he’s willing to give up an extra half hour of sleep whenever Sehun wants to push their nightly call a little further into the night. He knows what it means when he gives Sehun his lunch because Sehun had forgotten his wallet at home again.

Most of all, Jongin knows what it means when he finally steps down off the stage, gripping tightly onto the certificate in his hands, and makes a beeline for Sehun instead of his family.

  
It is the summer of 2012, and Jongin feels his bones melt in relaxation from how the mattress just seems to soak up all the tension in his muscles. Next to him, Sehun wriggles happily.

They’re on holiday together, just the two of them. Jongin had managed to convince his parents to let him travel without them, and Sehun just had to tell his mother that Jongin will be with him in order for her to agree to the trip. Jongin had found budget tickets to a nearby resort island, and they’ve been spending the past two days lazing around in the sun and building horrendous sandcastles.

“It’s almost 2 A.M.,” Jongin says, peering at the clock. “Want to go to the beach?”

Sehun springs up instantly.

Armed with a beer in each of their hands, they slip out of their chalet and trudge over to the vacant beach chairs barefoot. Soft sand slides through the gaps in their toes.

“Promise me something,” Jongin says, “let’s be best friends forever.”

It takes an extra second for Sehun to reply than it would’ve usually. Jongin chalks it up to a mouthful of beer.

“I promise,” Sehun says, and gives Jongin one of his smiles. It’s coincidentally one of Jongin’s favourite Sehun Smiles.

“Good,” Jongin mumbles, and takes a swig of beer.

  
Jongin breaks his own promise just a few days later.

“I don’t want to be your best friend anymore,” he says, not looking up from his phone. He feels Sehun freeze next to him.

“W-What?”

The hurt in Sehun’s voice is so potent that Jongin momentarily regrets saying what he had just said. Hurriedly placing his phone aside, he turns to Sehun and takes one of his hands in his own.

“I don’t want to just be your best friend anymore,” he says, pushing his fingers into the gaps between Sehun’s.

Jongin watches with bated breath as Sehun’s eyes flick from their interlocked fingers up to Jongin’s face and back down again.

“Oh,” Sehun breathes, “okay.”

He tightens his grip on Jongin’s fingers. “Okay.”

Jongin’s heart soars.

  
It’s the month of February, of the year 2013, and Jongin’s leaning against the wall of his old high school’s auditorium. It’s been a year since he’s been in here, and he does kind of miss it, even if he doesn’t want to admit it to himself.

It’s Sehun’s turn up on that stage, and Jongin laughs quietly to himself when he recalls the times that Sehun would complain about being a whole school year beneath Jongin when there is only a three-month difference between them

But it doesn’t matter anymore – Sehun’s graduating and he’ll join Jongin in university come this fall. They’ll be together in school again, and they won’t need to dash over to each other’s campuses whenever one is staying late for extracurricular activities. They’ve already gotten an apartment together, and Sehun’s plan is to pack everything he needs over the next few days and to move in within the end of the week.

Jongin loses his grip on the bouquet in his hands and it nearly topples onto the floor – he catches it in time and looks up at Sehun sheepishly. Sehun’s eyes aren’t trained on him but Jongin knows that he had seen it; the smile flitting along the seam of Sehun’s lips give him away.

The ceremony seems to go on forever, and it’s Jongin’s turn to want it to end soon.

When it finally does, Jongin waits until Sehun’s given his parents and brother a hug before he steps up.

“For you,” Jongin says with a lopsided grin, holding out the bouquet. Sehun takes it with a laugh.

“Thank you,” he replies, and steps into Jongin’s embrace happily. “For the flowers... and for being with me all throughout high school. I don’t know what I’d be like without you in my life. Love you.”

“I love you too,” Jongin whispers into Sehun’s ear, and holds him just a little tighter.

  
It’s the year 2015, and they’ve dropped out of college. Instead of attending lectures and rushing late papers, they’ve decided to open up their own business – a humble art-based studio where Jongin will teach modern dance and jazz in one room and Sehun will teach photography in the other.

Located on the first floor of their new shophouse, their business starts off with a bang. White walls and thin cotton drapes whisper to you and beckon you in, while slate grey furnishings along with a pop of greenery inspire you. University students – most of them conveniently coming from the large art school down the street – that want to learn new things or further their skills come flooding in. Adults that have time on their hands or who want to feel alive again drop by sometimes, too.

Classes are always packed, but when his students are busy, Sehun will slip out of his photography studio to lean against the doorframe of Jongin’s dance studio and watch as his boyfriend dances with light and life in his eyes. With his trusty camera always in hand, he’ll sneak in several shots whenever he can.

They have Wednesdays off, and they’ll spend it sleeping in until noon. Jongin will throw together a quick lunch of noodles and kimchi; they’ll eat standing by the kitchen island before heading downstairs and drawing the curtains in the dance studio shut. Sehun will pull his camera out and Jongin will show him a new piece that he wants to teach to his students. Sehun will take hundreds of pictures of his boyfriend and will ultimately tell him that the dance piece is beautiful.

“That’s what you always say,” Jongin will complain, but the way he kisses lets Sehun know that he doesn't mind at all.

  
It’s a Saturday in the month of – wait, it doesn’t matter.

Whenever they go out with friends, no matter the day, month, or year, they will end up sitting through a whole elaborate performance of eye-rollings and sighs and head-shakings.

Today, it starts because Sehun just can’t be bothered to feed himself.

“Sehun, why do you not eat unless Jongin feeds you,” Kyungsoo sighs, shaking his head as Sehun twinkles at him. Jongin pushes a spoonful of rice into Sehun’s mouth.

“I don’t even know how Jongin takes it,” Junmyeon comments, stealing a gulp of Kyungsoo’s drink. Kyungsoo gives Junmyeon his scariest glare, but Junmyeon doesn’t even flinch.

“Even if I can’t, I have to,” Jongin replies, biting into a piece of meat that Sehun had dropped in his bowl.

“You should just leave him,” Jongdae jokes, speaking to Jongin. Sehun laughs.

“He’ll never leave me,” he says assuredly, and Jongin stuffs more food into his mouth.

Jongdae rolls his eyes.

  
After living with Sehun for two years, being his boyfriend for three, and being his best friend for six, Jongin’s learned all of his habits.

Sehun has a tendency to fall asleep to ridiculously loud commercials, curled up on the sofa with cold toes tucked underneath a pillow. It’s somewhat of a hassle because Jongin is the one who has to carry Sehun to bed, and Sehun isn’t exactly easy to carry. But Jongin does it anyway because he likes watching Sehun snuggle up to his pillow when he pulls the covers over his snoozing boyfriend – Sehun’s fingers tend to curl around the edge of the pillow and it never fails to tug sweetly at Jongin’s heart.

Sehun also loves playing hard to get when they’re out in public, always stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. It poses a constant challenge for Jongin because Jongin loves holding Sehun’s hand, and he ends up having to cajole Sehun and pull on his wrist with pleading eyes. Sehun always gives in though, wrapping pretty fingers around Jongin’s and squeezing extra hard as a form of apology. Jongin forgives him every time.

They don’t fight a lot, but whenever they do, Jongin always apologises first. He doesn’t really mind, even if Sehun’s at fault, because Sehun will always apologise later in bed when he’s sleepy and feeling bad. The only argument Jongin has ever won against Sehun was the one in which he declared that no one will ever love another person as much as he loves Sehun.

“I’ll love you the most until the day I die,” he had said, and Sehun had frowned because there’s nothing that can best that.

  
During the handful of rare occasions that Sehun is seen without Jongin, he’ll always be talking about Jongin. It can range from a comment about how Jongin’s class was really full that morning to a whole monologue about why Jongin is the best person in Sehun’s life. All it takes is a single mention of his name.

Once, Kyungsoo had accidentally said Jongin’s name while they were walking out of a café, and he regretted it immediately afterwards. Sehun sat him down at a bench and pushed his half-finished drink into Kyungsoo’s hand – there was a soft look in his eyes and Kyungsoo wanted to coo and barf at the same time.

“He attempted to make me a green tea frappuccino today,” Sehun had said, eyes fixed on the same drink in Kyungsoo’s hand.

“He failed horribly at it but he’s still so perfect to me. He’s the sweetest person.”

Kyungsoo couldn’t help but smile. He berated himself mentally for it later.

“He really does love me the most,” Sehun had mused. “I try to love him more than he loves me but it seems impossible.”

  
There are glossy pictures of Jongin, Sehun, and of them together all over their bedroom walls. There are stacks and stacks of pictures stored in white boxes beneath their beds – the walls can only hold so many photographs, you see.

“I don’t want to teach today,” Sehun says, turning around in bed and squinting at the horrid weather outside before groaning and turning to stare at a random photograph instead. In that picture, Jongin’s staring sadly at his dropped ice cream. Sehun can't help but giggle.

“Cancel the class then,” Jongin replies from where he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants. He has a class in fifteen minutes, and they can already hear students filing in downstairs.

Sehun does end up cancelling his class – he also ends up joining Jongin in his. Jongin makes him dance, and although Sehun doesn’t dance as much as he used to in high school anymore, it doesn’t show. Jongin teaches Sehun and his students part of a new dance piece that involves partner work, and Sehun is more than happy to be Jongin’s dance partner for the day.

When the students leave, Jongin cancels his second and last class of the day in order to lock the front door and push Sehun down onto the polished floor of his studio. Sweaty skin doesn’t exactly slide well across the floor, but Sehun doesn’t really care because hey, Jongin’s going to make love to him and he’ll take it wherever.

  
It’s the year 2016, and Sehun’s no longer smiling. His eyes no longer curve up into half-moons and his canines that Jongin loves so much no longer show.

He still teaches, but there are considerably fewer students coming in and out of the doors because Jongin’s studio is closed. The room is dark and the door hasn’t been opened in months. The only people Sehun ever talks to now are his students and his friends when they decide to call.

On Wednesdays, Sehun spends hours upon hours sitting by the front door, face turned towards the large window that faces out onto the street. He stares out at the trees that occasionally wave back at him; sometimes he forgets to draw the curtains and he ends up staring at thready sheets of cotton instead.

His life falls into one that would be too methodical for Jongin’s tastes; he wakes up at nine every morning (even Wednesdays), and he’ll have a cup of coffee at half past nine. He’ll teach his morning class, take his lunch break, teach his afternoon class, take a coffee break, close the studio, and sit by the door until his stomach demands for sustenance.

After dinner, he’ll take a cold shower (hot when he wants to cry), and he’ll fall asleep to mirages of Jongin next to him.

Sehun wakes up one day and rolls over to gaze at the empty spot by his side.

“It’s been four months, Jongin. Where’ve you been?”

  
It’s a Wednesday. Sehun doesn’t know what month it is.

He rests his weight by the front desk, a few steps away from his spot by the front door. He feels so, so helpless.

  
“It’s been so long,” Kyungsoo presses. He’d managed to pull Sehun out of his house, but Sehun had refused to go to the café they used to frequent. They ended up at another café across the street. “Why are you still unable to accept the fact that he’s gone?”

Sehun blinks when Kyungsoo shakes him roughly. Junmyeon bites back a sigh.

“He’s not gone.”

“He left, Sehun.” Junmyeon leans in. Sehun detects desperation in his eyes. “He left four months ago. He left all of us four months ago.”

“He wouldn’t leave me.”

Jongdae nearly chucks his coffee mug at the wall. “You can't keep lying to yourself, Sehun. He didn’t leave for a vacation; it was a car accident, and you bloody well know it was.”

Sehun swallows around the dryness in his mouth and looks at his friend.

“He couldn’t even make it to the hospital before he stopped breathing,” Jongdae continues on, ignoring Junmyeon’s gestures for him to stop. He knows his words are harsh, but it doesn't seem like he'll be able to get his point across any other way. “Why can’t you just come to terms with the fact that he’s gone?”

“Because Jongin will never leave me,” Sehun repeats. His green tea frappucino lies untouched.

  
It’s yet another empty Wednesday, and Sehun’s to-do list that’s months old lies forgotten on the front desk. Somewhere on that list says _find Jongin_.

Sehun breaks free from his routine today and cleans. He cleans the first floor but leaves Jongin’s studio untouched. He heads up to the second floor and cleans that, too. He’s wiping down the TV set when he spots a disc that he’s never seen before. There’s writing on the surface, and it looks achingly familiar.

Slotting it into the DVD player, Sehun sinks down onto the floor as the TV flickers to life. A timestamp at the corner of the screen tells him that the video was taken four months ago. All of a sudden, Sehun doesn’t want to watch the video anymore.

But when Jongin’s face blooms onto the screen, Sehun breaks and folds into himself. All thoughts of running out of the room dissolve into nothingness when the camera shakes and he sees himself appearing on screen next to Jongin. They’d filmed this one day when they had nothing to do – amidst the jarringness of dealing with Jongin's death, Sehun had forgotten all about it.

“Jongin,” Sehun whispers, shaky fingers extending out towards the screen. It radiates heat.

“Jongin, are you there?” Sehun asks tremulously.

He watches with wide, teary eyes as he laughs on screen, next to an equally happy Jongin.

“ _Jongin, are you there?_ ” Sehun shouts at the television, voice cracking at Jongin’s name.

His heart lurches and Sehun has to clamp a hand over his mouth in order to stop himself from screaming. Tears surge forward as he watches himself leave the room. On screen, Jongin adjusts the camera and settles down in front of it.

“Sehunnie,” Jongin begins, and Sehun screws his eyes shut as he sobs into his palm – he’s missed Jongin saying his name. Missed it so much.

“You better not forget about this; you better watch it, okay?” Jongin shifts. “Sehun, I love you the most, you know that right? Nothing you say will ever make me believe that you love me more than I love you; it’s not a bad thing at all, it’s just that I really, really love you.”

Jongin laughs in embarrassment and Sehun simply cries harder at the sound.

“You know, every night, before I fall asleep, I think about you. I think about how lucky I am to have you, how lucky I am that you chose to love me and not anyone else in this world. I mean, what are the chances? The odds? That I get to have you to myself?” Jongin shrugs. “I can’t imagine not having you in my life – do you know that it’s already been four years that we’ve been together?”

Jongin rubs absentmindedly at his eye and Sehun instinctively opens his mouth to tell him to stop – because Jongin had cut his eyelid by accident one time he’d rubbed at his eye – but he closes it with a painful snap when he remembers that Jongin isn’t actually there in front of him.

“Do you remember the first day we met? I was in the library with my trusty books and you sat down opposite me and told me that I’d like the book I had just started reading? I’ll never forget that day. I’ve known you for so long, Sehun, and I’ve loved every second of it. I love the way you kiss me, the way you frown, the way you scrunch your nose when you wake up.”

Jongin leans closer to the camera and pretends to check his reflection. Sehun chokes back a watery laugh because that’s so Jongin.

“You’re my best friend, you know that right? My best-est friend that I love like no other. I know I broke that one promise all those years ago, but it led to really good things right? I’m going to make another promise to you now but I won’t break that one, okay? I promise you that I’m going to try my very best to make you feel as happy as I am when I’m with you. I’ll love you with every fibre of my being, okay?”

Jongin blushes then, and Sehun wants to reach into the screen to push Jongin’s hands away from his cheeks because he adores it when Jongin blushes.

“I didn’t think this would get so long,” Jongin admits. “It was supposed to be a silly message but it turned into a love letter.”

Laughing, Jongin shakes his head. He reaches forward with a hand but stops midway. “You need to promise me one thing too – if I ever leave before you do, you need to promise to go on living, and that you live a great life. Promise me, okay? Ah, you’re the brightest firefly in the glass jar that is my heart, Sehun, you’re just so beautiful.”

Smiling, Jongin leans in and switches the recording off.

  
It’s the year 2017, and Sehun’s changed some more.

He doesn’t fall asleep with commercials blaring in his ear anymore. Instead, he falls asleep to soft music floating out of speakers as he lies comfortably in bed. He eats out a lot more now, choosing to find quaint little places around the city instead of cooking for himself. Jongin would understand, he thinks. He’s also picked up reading, and he’ll read a novel a week, sometimes more if time allows.

He’s also picked up the habit of buying a bouquet of flowers identical to the one Jongin had given him for his graduation every other month on the 15th. He’ll go and drop it off by a smooth, marble tombstone, and he’ll let Jongin know that he’s doing his best to live a good life. He’s never lied.

Today, Sehun heads home from the cemetery and suddenly thinks of the pile of mail he’d stashed in a drawer during those few empty months. He cringes visibly at the amount of junk mail he would have to go through.

He’s sorted through a good amount of mail when he comes across an envelope with something inside that rattles. Slitting the flap open, he tips the contents out into his palm – out comes a ring that looks identical to the one he has on his ring finger of his left hand.

It’s Jongin’s ring, one half of the set they had gotten together.

A brief note accompanies it:

_He gave this to me in the ambulance and wouldn’t stop saying your name._   
_Sorry for not being able to pass this to you while you were at the hospital._   
_My deepest condolences._

  
The sunlight warms up Jongin’s ring that now hangs around Sehun’s neck on a delicate chain.

Sehun’s in the middle of checking the dance class schedule – the dance studio had reopened a couple of months ago when Yixing, a friend of Kyungsoo’s, had offered to take over – when he remembers something that Jongin had said a while ago.

_“I’ll love you the most until the day I die."_

Sehun looks at the framed photograph of Jongin he keeps by the computer.

“Well, I guess this means I finally love you more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Still one of my favourites from my old works, huhu.
> 
> [Click for Links!](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine)


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